MaleOrder Bride
by Ayakaishi Fei
Summary: All his life Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be Lord Voldemort's consort. Problem? Draco'll do anything to stop himself from being 'Lord Mouldywarts' slut, especially after the charming Tom Riddle offers to help him escape his destiny... for a price. SLA
1. So Basically I'm a High Class Prostitute

Title: Male-Order Bride  
  
Author: Ayakaishi Fei  
  
E-mail: Ken_Dai_Love@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category: Humour. Romance. "Horror".  
  
Warnings: Slash. Language.  
  
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Tom Riddle  
  
Summary: All his life Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be Lord Voldemort's consort. Problem? Draco refuses to whore himself out to anybody, and he'll do anything to stop himself from being 'Lord Mouldywarts' slut, especially after the charming Tom Riddle offers to help him escape his destiny... for a price. SLASH.  
  
Disclaimer: Have you noticed how everybody is conveniently gay in slash fanfiction (much like queer as folk)? From this you can deduce I'm either a scheming slash fangirl, or the director of queer as folk. I don't own - JK Rowling and Co have nothing to do with me. I just play with them.  
  
Chapter One: So Basically I'm a High-class Prostitute  
  
Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estates, had many fine qualities; he had been groomed for a position of authority, to achieve greatness for his family, and for himself. He was charming, when the situation called for charm, intelligent, although his wit was scathing, and beautiful, a rare trait in a male, and not a trait Draco particularly appreciated. It was not that he wished to look ugly, Gods forbid; he just recognised that being beautiful was not the most masculine thing to be. He could, perhaps, have handled the slight to his masculinity, had his parents not betrothed him to a man well over twice his age: Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself.  
  
His parents had not kept his betrothal a secret per se, they just hadn't mentioned that it was Lord Voldemort who would be marrying the young blond Malfoy heir. He'd always assumed that his parents would arrange a marriage with a young pureblood girl of good standing: to cement good relations between their families. He'd assumed that he would continue to reside, as master, on his family's ancestral property. He'd assumed that he would grow up to be even more of a man than his father - powerful, handsome, charming and well, the *man* in the relationship. He'd assumed a lot of things.  
  
He had *not* expected, on the eve of his 16th birthday, that his mother would sweetly inform him that he was engaged to none other than Lord Voldemort - the hideously ugly, supremely powerful, rotting corpse who commanded his parents loyalty. Engaged like a bloody trophy *wife*.  
  
His father had informed him that he was far from a trophy wife, and that he would be expected to use his intelligence, and skills in the bedchamber to please his future husband. Draco, needless to say, had not been pleased, and after his outburst he'd been sent to his room until he was ready to behave like a Malfoy, and appreciate the effort his father had made to secure his well-being.  
  
Sullenly, Draco paced the length of his room, furiously considering all possible routes of escape, desperate for any viable solution. He caught sight of his reflection in his mirror; a whip-cord thin figure with naturally pale delicate skin and perfectly styled platinum blond hair - perhaps a touch too long to be practical - stared back at him. Flint grey eyes (which he'd noticed reflected silver at inopportune times), hard as stone were set in a finely boned face and he had the most perfect ass (currently clad in a tiny pair of denim bum pants) that he'd ever seen on any person - male or female. It was no wonder the Dark Lord wanted to marry him, he decided. Nevertheless he was not going to just... *submit* to the snake, like a helpless woman. There had to be something he could do to escape his fate.  
  
When he caught himself considering the possibility of apparating to Harry Potter's muggle abode to beg for his assistance in avoiding the reach of Lord Voldemort's henchmen, however, he realised he was beyond desperate. His eyes turned to the pile of wizard gold he had spread over his magnificent oak escritoire and a sudden, and very obvious thought struck him: He could run away.  
  
He pulled his travelling suitcases out from his robe, opting to use the least conspicuous luggage, and hastily stuffed the cases with clothes, his wand, and his most precious and valuable possessions, before gathering what remained of his fortune and stuffing it into a bag and then into his suitcase.  
  
After snagging a clean black t-shirt and a floor length dragon-hide jacket his father had never approved of, he stomped his feet in his expensive dragon hide boots, clipping them up with an expertise that spoke of much practise. With equal ease, he then clambered out of his window and onto the leafy branch conveniently situated outside his window, taking his suitcases with him and shimmied down with a triumphant smirk. If all turned out according to plan he would avenge the slight to his masculinity, escape an unwanted betrothal, and lose his virginity to someone who wasn't his fiancee or an ugly half snake-half man with glowing red eyes. But most importantly he would hopefully prove to the rest of the world (including his parents) that as a Malfoy he could not be manipulated into marriage or at least not marriage with someone unattractive.  
  
~~~  
  
"Where, exactly, is my fiancee Lucius?" Lord Voldemort, master of the Death Eaters and all-around bad guy, coldly demanded of his subordinate.  
  
Lucius smiled with a slick disarming charm, "My Lord, why don't you have a drink? Some food? Surely we can offer you something-"  
  
"You can bring me my *bride* Lucius. I start to grow irritated by your recalcitrance. Where is my Draco-bunny?"  
  
Lucius cringed, "I... he went out for a short breath of fresh air - something about wanting to look his best when you arrived. You know how the hopelessly infatuated can-"  
  
Voldemort cut him off, "You may be a Death Eater Malfoy, but you are a *very* bad liar."  
  
"M-my Lord - I swear, your consort would not dream of defying your-"  
  
"Silence Lucius. I see I shall have to handle this matter without your bumbling incompetence. If one wants something done, one must do it oneself. I will woo my beautiful bed-warmer to ensure that he will one day rule at my side, but if you have ruined my chances at winning your fallen angels affection, there will be hell to pay Lucius, I assure you."  
  
"Of course My Lord. I wish you the best of luck when you woo my stubborn son." Lucius performed a deep obeisance and rose only when the loud sound of a whip crack indicated that the Dark Lord had apparated off of Malfoy grounds. His eyes narrowed as Narcissa appeared from where she'd waited outside the doorway - her whelp would pay if he displeased the Dark Lord in any way, and he would suffer for the disgrace he had been to the noble house of the Malfoy family.  
  
~~~  
  
Flinty grey eyes surveyed the nightclub, which stood on the corner of Knockturn Alley and Blackmoon Court, apathetically, unimpressed with the crumbling stone building. Sneering, Draco joined the long winding line of young wizards and witches waiting outside the tall oak doors while the buff wand-wielding bouncers of the "Magic Cane" inspected those who wished to enter.  
  
He fit in rather well with the group of teens who chatted as they awaited their turn to be admitted to the club. The young women, equipped with either forged or authentic magical ID's and dressed in see-through robes, thigh high dragon-hide boots - similar to his, or beaded or pleather skirts, and low cut shirts chattered amongst themselves as they waited. More than a few wore glamours which changed their hair colour every few seconds, creating a kaleidoscope of colours, and Draco was willing to bet that well over half of them had consumed various potions to change certain aspects of their appearance for the night. Equally lurid, in Draco's opinion, were the young wizards whose clothes ranged from neat and upper- class to trashier and sluttier than Draco's own. Many of them wore dragonhide - like the girls, while others paraded in glittering robes, or fine shirts made of woven pixie wings, enchanted to shine iridescently under the magical lights of the club. Then of the course there were those who, aside from glamours to protect their modesty were all but naked.  
  
He was in the belly of the magical underworld now, deeply enmeshed with various other young dark wizards or witches. He recognised a handful of those waiting in the line as "daring" young students looking for adventure during their school vacation. It didn't impress him in the slightest - Gryffindor's, or their equivalent, the type who got a kick out of playing with fire.  
  
Draco found himself holding a listless conversation with the young woman in front of him, while he waited. She was attractive enough, he supposed, and she claimed to be 19, a statement her magical ID authenticated, but Draco judged her to be 16 or 17 at the most. When she spoke it was mostly in French and she introduced herself to him as Cecilia, a former Beuxbatons student, however Draco noticed her attention was more on the blue haired witch in front of her than on him.  
  
Her slim form was clad in a long black lace skirt, which fell gracefully to the ground and almost hid her high-heeled boots from sight. Her long chocolatey hair fell over her shoulders, and he could see shimmers of silver and green when the light hit her. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was her hair, which was sparkling, and not a top. She wore no shirt: her hair was charmed to fall around her chest and protect her naked breasts.  
  
Her conversation was intelligent and her smirk was predatory when she addressed him. "So what am I supposed to call you, sugar?"  
  
Draco paused, having not considered the issue of his name. He certainly couldn't say Draco Malfoy, not if he was running away, he needed something mysterious, charming, but at the same time dangerous. He smirked, "You can call me Lestat."  
  
Cecilia let out a tinkling laugh, like a thousand bells chiming simultaneously, "Like the vampire in the muggle books?"  
  
"Quite," Draco agreed, raising an eyebrow, surprised, he'd read the book - stolen it off one of the mudbloods he taunted at Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected the girl to get the reference, however, he was pleased that he didn't have to explain it.  
  
"Hm, I have an idea..." The girl swept her hand upwards, seemingly pulling her wand from thin air, "How do you feel about 'fake' fangs, Lestat?"  
  
"No objections, as long as you don't turn me into a vampire. I'm running away from the Dark Lord, I don't want him to have any say over my allegiances."  
  
The blue-haired girl in front of Cecilia turned around at this, bearing fangs of her own, "We're not really vampires, it's just fun to pretend. We were looking for a male "vampire" to join our coven. I'm Merrick."  
  
Cecilia laughed again, and with a whispered sound and a twitch of her wand Draco felt his canines grow slightly longer and pointier. It felt... different.  
  
Merrick smirked at him and with a grin cast her own spell, "Another temporary glamour - we thought you'd look more like Lestat with violet eyes, love."  
  
Draco leered, his fangs glinting in the pale light as he offered an arm to each of the girls, "Well then my pets, looks like we're almost at the head of the line now."  
  
Both girls leered back as they accepted the proffered arms.  
  
~~~  
  
"You can't escape from me that easily love," Voldemort purred, spotting his fiancee dancing beneath the flickering blue lights of the club. He took a moment to pause and observe the lithe blond teen as he thrust his body to the beat of the music, his hips rolling, noting, absently, how Draco's pert perfect ass seemed to invite ravishment.  
  
He made his way to the boy effortlessly, the crowds parting before his grotesque visage like the Red Sea before Moses. He scowled at the two girls who seemed to flank his future lover, their feminine nudity irritating him, but then Draco's gaze seemed to meet his, and Voldemort smiled in his most winning manner, "Are you ready to go home, my pet? I thought perhaps we could discuss our upcoming wedding?"  
  
Draco froze, his fangs flashing as he grimaced, "Get fucked. I'm not marrying you, and you can't make me."  
  
"Oh but I can sweetling, you forget, I know how to cast Imperious - I am the Dark Lord, after all. I own this club. I own your parents. I own you, love."  
  
Draco tilted his head, and smiled with all the charm he could muster. "Screw. You."  
  
"You don't mean that," Voldemort purred, pulling the boys hips closer to his.  
  
"You're an ugly snake, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth. I'd rather fuck Harry Potter!"  
  
"Ugly? I should have guessed a lovely, materialistic boy like you would not be able to see my inner beauty..."  
  
"Fuck inner beauty, I'm not losing my virginity to anyone who isn't at least my equal in attractiveness."  
  
"Draco-bunny, I will give you your wish, I will make myself attractive for you." Voldemort's long bony fingers dug generously into Draco's perfect butt cheeks.  
  
Draco's eyes widened, "Rape! I'm being raped! By an old, ugly man!"  
  
Voldemort pulled away as the rest of the room turned to look at them, and chuckled maliciously, "I'll find you again, love. You have my word."  
  
"And I'll keep running until you leave me alone. I won't marry you." Draco vowed.  
  
"Yes you will." Voldemort assured him.  
  
He didn't look back as he made his way out of the club, and by the time he reached the exit, Draco's prospective suitor had a new plan to woo the stubborn blond, and he knew exactly how he would execute it. He remembered reading about a very potent (albeit highly illegal) permanent youth restoration potion, and by creating and using it he would prove that he was willing to go to any lengths to win the hand of his Draco-bunny.  
  
~~~  
  
Voldemort, Lord and Master of all he surveyed, paused as his snivelling servant scurried into the room, an anvil held in his hand, and the head of a bawling infant directly beneath the heavy metal hammer, "What is it?"  
  
"As you ordered, Master, we've retrieved the reproductive organs of the Nundu you killed earlier this week." Wormtail bowed deeply, trying to avoid looking at his master.  
  
"Good. Now-" Voldemort returned to the task at hand, raising the hammer once more, preparing to bring it down on the baby's blotched red face.  
  
"Where did you manage to find the child, My Lord?"  
  
Voldemort stopped again, "It's one of Goyle's numerous offspring. I commanded him to give it to me. Now if you don't mind-?"  
  
Wormtail fell into a quivering mass on the floor at the sound of his Master's unpleasant tone. Voldemort brought the hammer down on the squalling child's head with a sickening thud. "Now, where is my unicorn? Wormtail..."  
  
Wormtail scuttled out of the room and returned with a perfectly white, placid looking unicorn. Voldemort's long sallow face brightened, as he picked up the crushed skull and brains and dropped them into a cauldron simmering over the fire in the centre of the room.  
  
"Now, Wormtail: put my Nundu testes into the cauldron. The eyes of the Antipodean Opaleye are already simmering in the sludge with my baby brain."  
  
Wormtail, looking revolted, did as his Master commanded, even as the slithering snake Lord thrust a slender dagger into the breast of the unicorn Wormtail had led into the room. He cracked the ribs of the beast open, and tore out the still beating heart, dropping it into the cauldron along with a hair he had been preserving for this very purpose, a hair he had pulled out of his own head when he was just 17 years old.  
  
It only took the mixture a few moments to come to the boil, turning a deep iridescent purple, and Voldemort chuckled darkly as it did. Dipping a cup made of fine oak into the mixture he drew out a cupful, and bought it to his lips, his red eyes alight with success.  
  
Wormtail watched as the most evil and powerful man in the universe swallowed the vile mixture and promptly collapsed; his body convulsing. He watched, transfixed, as slowly, painfully, Voldemort's body began to change, until lying on the floor where Voldemort had been there now lay an attractive, yet strangely familiar young man. Tom Riddle sat up and laughed,  
  
"You will be mine yet, Draco Malfoy. And you will like being mine, I assure you."  
  
End Chapter One.  
  
Authors Notes: I've never read a Draco/Tom fic before, but I decided the idea was too good to pass up. I haven't really written much (read: anything) in the HP fandom, but this was inspired by some of the brilliant pieces I've read recently. Most notably Delicious As Sin, a brilliantly written dark slashy fic which contained nearly all of my favourite pairings, and managed to be very sensual and yet angsty and real at the same time. And Ron died. If this fic is even half as good as that I will die a happy woman. Completed this chapter at 12:58AM.  
  
Thanks for taking the time to read this - please review? 


	2. Now Why Can't Guys Do Topless Waitressin...

Title: Male-Order Bride  
  
Author: Ayakaishi Fei  
  
E-mail: Ken_Dai_Love@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Category: Humour. Satirical. Romance.  
  
Warnings: Slash. Language. Femslash.  
  
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Tom Riddle. Ginny Weasley x Blaise Zambini. Hints at Draco Malfoy x Harry Potter.  
  
Summary: All his life Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be Lord Voldemort's consort. Problem? Draco refuses to whore himself out to anybody, and he'll do anything to stop himself from being 'Lord Mouldywarts' slut, especially after the charming Tom Riddle offers to help him escape his destiny... for a price. SLASH.  
  
Disclaimer: Like perfect grades, the perfect boyfriend and the car my parents got me the day I got my learners permit, owning Harry Potter is a dream I doubt I will ever achieve. I own nothing, I spent my last $200 odd dollars on the Cardcaptor Sakura box set.  
  
Chapter Two: Now Why Can't Guys Do Topless Waitressing?  
  
Draco stared up at the dull neon sign, which hung above the wooden door, and read it aloud, "Divinity."  
  
'Plain', he decided, as his grey eyes surveyed the rest of the building, and found it sorely lacking. 'This dilapidated strip club was the best that the magical underworld of Paris had to offer? How truly pathetic.'  
  
He meticulously straightened his jacket, paying careful attention to the lapels; to ensure that they sat correctly before he made his way towards the ugly doorway.  
  
He'd decided to cross the English Channel and hide out in Paris rather impulsively, upon the suggestion of one of his new fangirl's (courtesy of the Magic Cane) and disguised as a muggle in rather dashing detective wear he had made his way here.  
  
Although the club was technically a Dark-Wizard run club, and therefore loyal to his hideous future-spouse, Draco had decided it was the safest place to apply for a job. He'd picked up a copy of the Parisian newspaper - "The Black Adder", and had found a job he was qualified for almost immediately.  
  
He was technically underage, and consequently he would never be able to support himself on a wage from working in the less-dark side of the wizarding society, so he'd decided to take a risk, and go for a job at Divinity. Besides, old habits died hard, and he would not be expected to act sweet and innocent when he worked as a part of the tacky strip-club's staff.  
  
Draco was well aware that Voldemort had been quite serious about his threat to stalk him, but he'd bought a bottle of pepper-up spray, which was quite painful when one squirted it into the eyes, and he was not afraid to use it. In fact he'd already used it on quite a number of unfortunates who had stared at his lovely globes for a few seconds too long. Draco did have to keep up his façade of unavailability, after all.  
  
He still wasn't positive that applying for this job was the best decision of his life, but he had no choice, it was either this, or go home, put on a frilly white robe and say I do to that treacherous snake. He would have to wake up every morning, to look upon the man's hideous visage, and watch as he dressed in his despicably unfashionable attire all the while pretending that he found the Dark Lord... god forbid... attractive.  
  
This was the only way. With a decisive flick of his hair Draco stepped forward, and knocked on the door. It swung open invitingly, but an unexpected sight, froze Draco in his tracks. He'd read of the girl's disappearance in the Daily Prophet, but he'd never really cared enough to consider where the stupid girl had gone when she'd run off. Now, given that the most attractive Weasley (which wasn't saying much) was standing in front of him, he knew.  
  
"Weasley," He managed to force out, his voice betraying nothing of his emotional turmoil.  
  
Virginia Weasley, better known as Ginny, raised a single copper eyebrow in an aristocratic gesture that made Draco twitch in annoyance. Her hair, the colour of bloody copper, as if she'd washed it in the blood of those unfortunate enough to fall into her clutches, gleamed under the dull lights of the warehouse cum strip-club. Her mouth, petite yet plump, and rather bruised, as if she'd been kissing a lover who didn't know the meaning of the word gentle, was curled up in a kind of smirk.  
  
"Malfoy," She returned, in a voice he would not have associated with any girl younger than he was, let alone little Ginny Weasley. The mere sight of her made Draco uneasy - the youngest Weasel was the last person he'd expected to see at a Dark-Wizard run female strip club. Draco forced himself to remain distant and emotionless, so that her words would not affect him.  
  
"Blaise, love, I need your assistance." Ginny's voice was husky, seductive despite her words, and her soft doe brown eyes seemed amused and unusually calculating.  
  
Blaise Zabini sashayed through the door, her hair, not quite the same shade as Ginny's, more of an almost unnatural deep crimson, falling like a waterfall around her scantily clad body. "My assistance? Again? Why pet, I didn't realise you were so horny today..."  
  
"Not that kind of assistance," Ginny murmured, not sounding the least bit embarrassed, even when Blaise slid her arms around the smaller girl's waist, and nibbled on her neck seductively.  
  
"Oh. How disappointing." Blaise looked up, and her eyes, today a deep violet colour, met Draco's. Her lip twitched upwards but she didn't laugh, and her face was politely curious, "Draco Malfoy. Fancy meeting you here. Is there anything we can help you with?"  
  
"I'm looking for a job," Draco grated out, irritated at finding two of his classmates already working at a strip club, and more than irritated at finding Blaise, one of the only girls he'd ever found even halfway attractive, engaged in a lesbian relationship with the youngest of the poverty-stricken mudblood-loving Weasley family. It just... wasn't right!  
  
"Oh?" Blaise purred, her hand sliding under Ginny's highly unsuitable top with a sort of careless grace, and her smoky gaze fixed on him.  
  
"You put an advertisement in the Black Adder - said you were looking for someone. I'm here to apply."  
  
Ginny made a snorting noise that she hastily turned into a cough, her brown eyes even more amused than before. Blaise's fingers stopped mid-caress, and she gave Draco a look, which clearly read: 'You're NOT serious, are you?'  
  
Draco shot her a look back, which said, equally audibly: 'Of course I am, you stupid rug-muncher. Boys can be topless waitresses too you know!'  
  
Ginny's amusement faltered somewhat as she intercepted the demeaning looks that Draco Malfoy was sending her significant other, and she hastily stepped in to intercede, "Okay then. Malfoy, to start the interview, what makes you think you have the necessary... skills... to ensnare the admiration - and tips - of our clientele?"  
  
Draco raised one perfect pale gold eyebrow - in a far more aristocratic fashion than Ginny had earlier, he was sure, and shrugged, "Well I'm gorgeous aren't I? Who in their right mind wouldn't want to stare at me?"  
  
Blaise and Ginny exchanged looks. Ginny spread her hands thoughtfully, arching her eyebrows questioningly: 'He's right... he is gorgeous.'  
  
Blaise frowned slightly, her nose crinkling: 'Well yes, but to really attract the boys we'll want him completely naked not just topless. Besides, can you really see Draco being able to wait on tables?'  
  
Ginny snorted, her eyes crinkling as she tried to suppress her laughter: 'Okay, no. But letting that body walk out of here fully clothed would be a sin, and you know it!'  
  
Blaise rolled her eyes, relenting. "I'm afraid that you weren't what we were looking for when we placed the ad in the Adder..."  
  
"However, since then - or at least since you walked through the door looking for a job - we've had an opening for a male stripper. Interested luv?" Ginny finished, her deceptively innocent eyes calculating as they ran over his body with an unnerving amount of interest.  
  
Draco wanted to shake his head - wanted to walk out and never return, but neither Blaise nor Ginny looked like they would let him leave without a... very good reason. And damn if they hadn't grown up over the summer - Blaise was gorgeous, yes, but the Weasel... well her looks were almost enough to shatter his confidence in the universe. The poverty-stricken Weasley's were not supposed to blossom into sexy, seductive lesbians - it went against everything Draco knew to be true... and yet... he couldn't stop the tentative arousal he felt from watching the two girls - he was a teenage male, after all.  
  
Blaise chuckled, "We'll take that as a yes. Are you more comfortable in leather or feathers doll?"  
  
Draco blinked wordlessly, "Feathers?"  
  
"Feathers it is!" Ginny laughed, "Pierre, mon cher, voulez-vous aide Draco sil-vous-plait? Oui? Merci beaucoup."  
  
Draco stared as an attractive black-haired, green-eyed boy, who looked far too much like Harry Potter in his esteemed opinion seemed to materialise out of nowhere. He flashed Ginny an easy smile, "Pour ses soir, Ginny?"  
  
"Oui. I'll talk to you both later, alright?"  
  
"But of course." Pierre took Draco's slender wrist between two of his slightly darker fingers, and pulled him from the room.  
  
Draco followed helplessly, his mouth curling into its instinctive sneer, and he itched to spit something contemptuous at the boy-who-looked-like- Potter, purely from habit. Pierre's lips curled into a warm smile - one that looked remarkably like that stupid Gryffindor's come-fuck-me-I'm-naked- and-showering smile - as he led Draco into a small room filled with more costumes than could realistically fit in a room of the size which it was.  
  
"We decided on feathers didn't we?" Pierre purred, his heavily accented voice making the words hard to understand, "I think somethink zat is... noir. Oui?"  
  
"Nah--what?" Draco spat, "What's this all about?"  
  
Pierre laughed, deeply, his hand resting on Draco's back as he pulled out a costume which Draco could already see would barely cover the bare- essentials, and handed it to Draco. "Here. Put it on. I assume you'll be my partner, so after this I'll teach you my routine for tonight."  
  
Draco shot the black-haired young man a withering look as he snatched the outfit, and made his way into the curtained-off change-room Pierre had indicated when they entered the costume-room. As he'd suspected, the black feather ensemble was remarkably immodest, although he did have to concur that it look rather flattering on. The colour of the feathers set off his pale skin, and the cut of the male-thong (which looked rather like someone had skinned a raven to turn it into underwear, in Draco's opinion) did accent his admittedly perfect posterior. All in all it wasn't the worst outfit Draco had ever had to wear, however, it did come in the top ten.  
  
"You look perfectly adorable," Pierre purred as Draco reluctantly slunk out of the change room, keeping up appearances that he was high-class and unavailable. "I could just eat you all up."  
  
Draco's pale face paled even further as Pierre's green eyes trailed down his body, and paused quite deliberately on his feather-covered family jewels.  
  
"I don't think so." Draco snapped. There was absolutely no way that he would waste something as precious as his virginity on this hideous Potter- wannabe stripper. Besides, knowing his luck he would probably moan Potter when he marked that pretty pale neck as his property. Draco froze in place, wondering where on earth these terrible thoughts were coming from, then shook his head hastily, trying to clear it. He would much rather fantasise over... a girl: a rich, pureblood seductress. Yes, a raven-haired goddess, like his cousin Gabrielle Dufont: a voluptuous sorceress whom he could one day marry. He would not moon over some scrawny wizard: a Malfoy has taste and elegance in all things.  
  
"Oh don't be like that, pet," Pierre hummed into his ear, his green eyes bright. "I've just thought of a way to make my strip routine infinitely more interesting. But first, to see Mademoiselles Ginny et Blaise, oui?"  
  
Draco watched numbly as the boy pulled away and made his way out towards the main foyer. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off the black haired boy - or move for that matter. Pierre threw a look back at him, his features rebuking the pale haired boy. "Vite, vite, Draco."  
  
Draco jolted into action and stepped forward to follow the boy out of the room, and into the light, airy foyer where Ginny and Blaise were standing, apparently discussing something as Blaise noted something else in a black folder.  
  
"May I present, Monsieur Malfoy," Pierre announced smiling. Draco couldn't help but notice that Pierre pronounced his last name with the same distinctly French pronunciation that his mother did, making the name sound like the French phrase, 'mal foit', meaning bad deed. It wasn't entirely pleasant, however, seeing the two girls' drool when they saw him in the outfit Pierre had chosen for him was temporarily appeasing. More people should follow their example when it came to recognising his godlike magnificence.  
  
~~~  
  
Tom Riddle smirked cruelly as his death-eaters lumbered through the heavy walnut doors and into his dimly lit harem, a struggling figure dragged between them. The stupider of the two gave him a hair-raising smile, and the marginally smarter one flung the slender teen towards the silk covered beds.  
  
"We found him, Lord Voldemort. It wasn't easy, but Nott came up with a cunning plan!"  
  
"Very cunning master," The stupider one chimed in, dull eyes gazing hopefully at the dark-haired teen version of Lord Voldemort.  
  
"Oh very good," Tom drawled, "I'm so very pleased with you. Now go take a bath. You stink."  
  
The figure on his bed let out a low groan, and forced itself into a sitting position. Thanks to the dim lighting Tom could see that the figure was male, with rather attractive features. The boy would suffice quite nicely, for the time being. If he couldn't have Draco Malfoy, then he would settle for the next best thing; a pretty face to decorate his arm and smile charmingly at the populace while he delivered long speeches about the need for mudblood-elimination to the masses. But for now, the boy would serve as his personal call boy... after he'd finished handling his business of course.  
  
Tom smiled at the whimpering boy-whore; "I'll be right back my dear. Practise opening your mouth very wide for me, okay. Good boy."  
  
With a bounce in his step Tom Riddle, once called Lord Voldemort, made his way towards his control room. So many operations to be overseen, so little time. Being an evil fiend with plans for world domination wasn't easy - even when you had magic to help you out.  
  
~~~  
  
Deceptively soft eyes measured the distance to the stage, and the best angle from which to record Draco and Pierre's performance. Their act was sure to be of interest to the backers of the club, and to the man whom both Ginny and Blaise owed their allegiance to.  
  
Ginny paused, adjusting the stand of the camcorder, and tilted the video camera so that it was focused on the two boys who were preening their feathers (literally) on stage. Draco, dressed in black feathers and easily removable mesh, was standing near one of the poles, his grey eyes boring a hole in the tables below him, as if he could impress his superiority on the uninhabited club. Pierre who wore a similar outfit in green, was bent at the waist, a slender leg stretched out before him as he stared at Draco from between his legs while he limbered up.  
  
"Stop staring at me you sodding prat, I've already told you, your looks do not hold a candle to my own, despite your pretty black hair, and even if you are the girl when we have sex, I'm not going to participate. Now, let's get this over with, I'm getting withdrawal symptoms from being away from my mirror and it's all your fault.  
  
Pierre smirked, "Alright, let's shake our bootie then, in preparation for our premiere performance tonight, ma cherie."  
  
Draco bared his teeth in a feral grimace, which actually looked rather fetching on his pale pointed face, as he assumed the starting pose Pierre had shown him only a few hours previously, and glared at the slightly older boy, "Chienne."  
  
"Merci beaucoup. I am glad you feel so affectionately towards me, and I will be happy to oblige you tonight. Being your bitch would no doubt satisfy even the straightest of men."  
  
Draco shuddered elegantly, as Malfoy's did not shudder like commoners, and sneeringly addressed his inferior, "You are one bloody sick bastard Pierre Delarc."  
  
Pierre was spared the necessity of replying when a low heady thrum began to pound through the building, signalling the beginning of the boys' act. Pierre flashed Draco a malicious smirk, as the blond was forced to mimic his actions. The act was quite a turn on, he had to admit, and they contrasted perfectly. He was sure that his master (and the true owner of the 'Divinity') would appreciate their performance immensely when he was given the tape, and a pleased master was always a good one when it came to retaining ones job.  
  
With that thought in mind he brought himself closer, and sealed his lips over his mildly surprised dancing companions. The kiss lasted barely more than a second, but he could feel the blond grow more irritated as he pulled away.  
  
Draco's silver eyes flashed as he spun around the pole so that he could end the dance in the correct position. Draco Malfoy never made mistakes. Beneath his calm, pale countenance however he plotted murder. Pierre would not get away with touching, tasting that which was unobtainable. He would suffer, and he would burn.  
  
Uncharacteristic fire blazed in the silver-haired boy's eyes as he gazed heatedly at the other boy, blood-fire-lust running headily through his veins. Oh yes, Draco swore fiercely, there would be hell to pay, and no feeble amount of pepper-up spray in the eyes could return what had been stolen so cruelly by the less-than-perfect stripper.  
  
End Chapter Two  
  
Authors Notes: I deleted this chapter - lost everything that I had written, which made me curl up and die - because only an idiot would do what I did. Never again, I swear. I cannot stand to lose it all again. I'm sorry it took so long - but it was harder to rewrite, because I *adored* what I already had done! Anyway I finished this chapter at 4:58 in the morning, and my mother came in, having woken up for work, and stuff, and asked me if I'd gone to bed yet... which I hadn't. Yes my sleeping habits are very out of wack. Joy. And I have to wake up at 9AM to enrol in my classes.  
  
I apologise for the lateness, but packing up so that I can move, and doing the uni thing really isn't that easy... 


	3. Authors Note

AUTHORS NOTE:  
  
Hey All,  
  
I'd like to say thanks, and I really appreciate that you've been reading my story(s) and that you enjoy them as much as you seem to. Lately I've had a number of reviews, asking me when I'll continue writing, and/or finish the story. My writing has always been something I do because I enjoy it a lot, however, I'm afraid right now ALL my stories are on hiatus, as I literally do not have the time to write. I am studying full time at university, working part time on the side, and, joy-joy-joy I'm pregnant. This means I'm always tired, and uninspired. I don't know when I'll continue writing, and finish those works which have not yet been finished, but when I do, I will update them the day I finish writing them. Thank you again for reading and enjoying.  
  
-Ayakaishi Fei 


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